Following Up
by Verdancy of the Green
Summary: A series of writings delving into the lives of the adventurers, and their interactions within the Labyrinth and Etria.
1. Chapter 1

**Cuz I get waaaay too invested, I did research on Middle Age Highlanders~! Though EOU's Highlander seems to be wearing more Medieval style clothing... He's too well trained though... And there was a chief as well... Urgh...**

Clear fluid spurts out of the needle as Simon tests the syringe. The sharp point glimmers in the candlelight, and the Highlander swallows hard. He's never seen a syringe before, but Simon has kindly explained to him its usage. It's similar to the way a snake injects venom into animals, just smaller, more precise, and considerably less deadly. Still, he's been bit by snakes before, and it was brutal. He doesn't care if this needle is much smaller than a fang – the feeling of something rushing into your veins is far worse. He's supposed to always be calm and composed, but how is anyone supposed to react in his position? He's never seen this medical instrument before. It's quite clear that medicinal science has progressed extremely far at the Midgard Library, and seeing all these new chemicals and tools with odd names is making him dizzy.

"I told you, this is just a local anesthetic, and try not to tense up your arm, alright?"

He nods and lets his arm lie limp on the bed. Simon knows what he's doing; the Highlander has seen proof of his skill many times inside the Labyrinth. In fact, he feels as if the treatment Simon gave inside the Labyrinth was more than enough.

"I'll explain again. I will first disinfect and clean out the wound again, and check it over before attempting anything. If everything is fine, I will begin to give you the stitches and sew close the wound. Pain killers and bandages can only do so much, you know?"

He nods again, and understands that something like this is necessary. He nearly bled out while taking a bath today, as the warm water washed off the muck that stemmed his injuries and dilated blood vessels. Arthur's terrified shrieks ring in his head, and he resists the odd urge to snicker.

He is more tired than he realizes.

They defeated a Ragelope for the first time today, and returned to Etria with their loot, covered in blood and filth. To his dismay, they were forced to leave behind much of the meat, and he lamented quietly over the loss of such a massive amount of venison. Instead, they returned with the antlers, which were just as tall as him, consisting of pure ivory. Their own blood stained the red-tipped horns, and he graciously accepted the _en _that Shilleka offered, even though it was far less than he had hoped. The cheapness of their lives is a reason he feels uncomfortable within Etria.

He stops daydreaming and looks at his arm again. While he was off thinking, Simon has already begun sewing shut the wound. The anesthetic is really amazing, if it can make a needle threading through his skin feel like nothing.

"Oh god, that's gross!" Arthur shouts, before burying his face into the pillows of the other bed. The Highlander and Simon are used to this, but he can see the poor alchemist's face turn green. If Raquna weren't in the other room, she would've been mercilessly teasing Arthur by now. The bandages on Arthur's arms are clearly visible, and he remembers the feel of sawing off the antlers, how ugly his dull blade looked, cutting through gorgeous cream.

"Why do the monsters attack humans?"

His question catches both of the young men off guard. The Highlander is one who answers questions and does not speak freely. To hear him genuinely ask something out of curiosity is a first for all.

"Whaddoya mean? They're _monsters,_" Arthur stresses, "horrible things that drink blood and crunch on human bones!" he exclaims, baring his teeth and waving his noodle arms over his head.

The Highlander smiles weakly at Arthur's dramatization.

"Don't patronize me," Arthur mutters.

"I think he means something different," Simon says, never breaking his concentration on the stitches. "Did you forget? Humans were also trapped inside when the Labyrinth appeared. We became part of the food chain back then."

He sighs at Simon's (rather boring) response, and his fingers involuntarily twitch as he swears he can feel the needle.

"Perfect," Simon murmurs, wrapping the stitches, "the anesthetic is wearing off too as well, right?"

He nods, and Simon finishes his treatment. He mentions something about disinfecting his tools, and leaves the room, carrying everything with him. His arm is beginning to feel sore, so he gives it a few experimental twists and stretches, marveling at how strong the stitches are.

"Don't push it! I've seen people snap stitches," Arthur shouts, strangely responsible for the time being. "It'd suck if Simon needed to patch you back up," he explains.

"I understand."

The sky outside is pitch black, and when Simon returns, they begin playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to sleep on the floor or in a chair today, since the only two beds look mighty comfortable right now. It's almost sad how quickly Simon loses.

"Fine, I'm sleeping in the chair tonight," he grumbles, ready to spread out some extra blankets and a pillow, before the Highlander stops him.

"You can have the bed today. Since you took care of everyone."

"Wow! Our Highlander is so nice!"

The sudden generosity confuses Simon, but he still accepts the offer. Right before he snuffs the lights, he reminds them he has painkillers in case anyone needs them, and they all mumble incoherent affirmations, too tired to make an effort anymore.

Despite throbbing pains and itchy bandages, everyone in the room sleeps soundly that night, exhaustion burning away all other annoyances. They decide to flub their careful schedules and sleep in a bit the next morning. They get charged extra for it, but no one really minds. The fact that they can take down an F.O.E. now makes them want to treat themselves.

**Yaaay. Done. **


	2. Chapter 2

** I think the Highlander knows how to sew. He probably does. Definitely Simon too. Maybe Raquna. Definitely not Arthur. And apparently his name in the EOU manga is Lindis Farne? He's named after the "Holy Island of Lindisfarne" and apparently it's a tide island with a nice castle...**

"Sorry for making you two do this," Fredrica apologizes. She lounges in the corner of the room wearing some of Raquna's spare clothes. They're too big, but she doesn't complain as the Highlander and Simon mend the group's clothes.

To be honest, it feels strange to see the Highlander wearing only his boxers, when she's used to seeing bulky, uncomfortable layers of wool and mail weighing down his frame. Her eyes awkwardly drift towards his abdomen before she blushes and looks away.

"It's fine," the Highlander replies, "we had to do this soon."

"Fredrica, shouldn't you have gone with Raquna and Arthur? Most of the clothes they're buying are for you," Simon asks.

"There's no need. I told Raquna what kind of clothes I want, and I think I might have expensive tastes. Better just leave it to them. Maybe they're more frugal than me."

Simon chuckles quietly.

"Arthur was never one to watch the details, and if you've forgotten, Raquna is still the daughter of an incredibly wealthy family, with a father who has always loved to dote. I'm not sure they would be the epitome of frugality," Simon says.

At their words, the Highlander unconsciously shudders. In his mind, he can already see their bags of _en, _the contents being emptied into the abyss right before his eyes. They're barely scraping by, and just for this rest day they planned out a three-day "looting" of the Labyrinth. They were gathering minerals and plants and hunting like mad, taking down what F.O.E.'s they could handle. Shilleka was almost crying with happiness by the end of the week.

He tries to have faith in his guildmates and gestures to a bench beside him.

"Fredrica, you said you wanted to help, right? Start taking out the stitching in these clothes so that we can reuse the cloth."

"Sure," she says, coming over. The Highlander hands her a small hook and demonstrates how to cut the stitches.

"You got it?"

"Yeah."

Simon watches the Highlander point out the miniscule stitches, and the nostalgia washes over his mind. He can almost see his older sister telling him how to do the same thing, telling him to mind his fingers and not to poke holes in the cloth if he can help it.

"You really are like her," he murmurs, pausing his work for a few moments.

The Highlander says nothing, and simply looks at Simon. Simon has said something similar before. He is sure of it.

"Oh, you did say something about your family before, right Simon?"

"I did, but it's not that big of a deal. Our Highlander doesn't seem to be so shabby with a needle, as far as I can tell. Did you learn from anyone?"

The Highlander's eyes shy away, and he begins to observe the hole in Simon's coat with great scrutiny.

"All the young men were training to be warriors, and we lived together in a village some distance away from the castle under a chief, separate from our families. Independence was necessary. Some of my peers were spoiled by their parents, so they began training, unaware of basic things such as cooking. I already had some experience though, so people usually went to me for help on cooking and mending clothes, or if they needed random tidbits of knowledge."

Fredrica is taking out the stitching, but at the same time she's earnestly listening.

"You already knew more than a lot of them? Prepared as always."

Simon puts down his work and shifts to a more comfortable position on the bed. It's the first he's ever heard the Highlander say about life at home.

"No, no. There are some blank spots in my early childhood, but I was on my own for a while. People were kind though. Raised me in place of parents. They taught me enough so that I could survive on my own. Once I was old enough I followed tradition and began training as a warrior with others my age," he said. His sleepy face brightens with a sudden smile as he looks outside.

"The weather is usually rainy and gray, like right now. It's nice. I miss the seas though."

"The seas? That's amazing!" Fredrica exclaimed, as faintly the sound of sloshing waves echoed in her memory.

The Highlander laughed softly at her excitement, and almost screamed as Simon was suddenly at his side, opposite of Fredrica.

"Could you tell me where you lived, perhaps? An island, or a coastal region?

The Highlander frowned, and Simon was amazed to see their Highlander's cheeks flushed like that of an Midgard intern for some burly knight.

"An island, with many strong tides. L-Lindisfarne," he mumbled.

The two listeners, abruptly stared at him.

"'Lindisfarne'? Isn't that your name, Lindis?" Fredrica said, finally abandoning her sewing duties.

Simon's eyes widened.

"It's a nice name. I hear that visitors need to be care around the beaches, or they'll drown or be swept away."

The Highlander's stiff body looseed, and his voice flowed easily again.

"If you ever decide to visit, I'll be your guide. I've lived near the tides a good portion of my life, and I can usually estimate when to leave to go to higher ground."

"But Lin-," Fredrica cut off her voice as she saw Simon mouth a discreet "later". "Yeah, it does sound really nice. Maybe after I've gotten my memory back and everyone's finished their business in Etria we can visit!"

The two sighed as the Highlander's uneasiness melted and flattened.

-0-0-0-

"Oh my gosh! This is so cute!" Fredrica shouted, pressing a dress to her body. The dress was simple, with some brass ornamentation, and more importantly, the cloth looked sturdy.

"Nice, eh? We got some other necessities for you too, so try them on and we can return any you don't like, okay?" Raquna said.

"Of course! Thank you!"

The Highlander graciously accepted the money bag, and Simon could see the young man's jaw drop before stowing away the money again.

"Don't worry, don't worry! We got extra clothes for everyone plus new armor as well!" Arthur said in a hurry.

"No, no! It's fine!"

Eventually, he cheered up as well, and was laughing with them over Raquna's almost embarrassing haggling. The smiles faltered a bit when they counted how many stores they were banned from.

"Apologizing would be just... strange," Fredrica said, still in her new black dress.

"Well, it's not like we're going to need to go shopping again anytime soon," Arthur thought aloud, "plus maybe Raquna's dad can send us some stuff?"

"No charity!" the Highlander snapped, "I'll drag us all over to apologize if we have to!"

"No, no, Arthur is right," Simon, said, "it's not like any of us live in Etria, so after our investigatios over we'll return to out respective homes. We're only buying some clothes since the length of our stay is still unknown."

"I keep trying to tell you guys that we only got banned from _some _of them," Raquna yelled, "not all of them!"

The discussion swayed between worry and hilarity, but eventually settled firmly into hilarity. The Highlander was laughing so hard with Fredrica that he could feel his core beginning to burn as everyone saw in her in another bright, piss yellow dress. She was shrieking with laughter as well and tripped onto the Highlander, where they both began trying desperately to say _everything _wrong with it.

"It's not that bad, is it?!" Raquna screeched.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but quickly dissolved into a haphazard pile of giggles.

"It's that bad."

"Noooo, Simon!"

By the time the innkeeper had shushed them all and gave them stern reprimands, three of them were asleep. However, Fredrica was keeping her eyes open, despite beginning to feel her eyelids go heavy.

"Simon, Simon, what were you saying about him?" she whispered, gesturing to the Highlander.

The man finished checking that all of them were safely stowed away in their beds, before answering Fredrica.

"What is a man – no, a _person_, usually named after?"

"That's easy, his family name." A few gracious moments past, and her face paled. "Oh."

"I'm assuming the people that found him simply gave him the most convenient name possible."

Fredrica glanced over to the sleeping Highlander.

"That's too sad. Even I have my own name, but him..."

"He's not one to wallow in pity. Give him his rest. You should sleep as well."

"Of course."

The lamps were dimmed, and they all settled into deep, dreamy sleeps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay, yay, yay! Some free time to write!**

The bird, in a flurry of desperation, rams its talons against him, slapping him to the ground. He cries out at the impact, but not before swinging his spear at its long, thin neck. Blood spurts from the newly formed stump, and finally, it collapses to the jungle floor. He gurgles helplessly as the shrieking roar of another F.O.E. appears at the worst possible time.

The world's too bright right now, especially with all of the pulsing stars clouding his vision. He sucks in a breath of humid air, and the oddest sound drops from his lips as a broken rib creaks. It's a guttural moan mashed with a wet cry, and his eyes twitch from side to side. Fredrica, Simon – even the sturdy Raquna – they're all down on the ground together. He wriggles his body, and realizes it's not just snapped ribs. The deep lacerations on on his torso have cut through his armor. Organs press against the thinned flesh, and he frowns at how damp the ground is.

"Guys! Guys, wake up!" Arthur screams, hurling hellfire at an insect that could dwarf two armored soldiers. The Highlander's face smears into the mud as he drags his head up. Are he and Arthur the only ones conscious? Not that it would make a difference, with him still incapacitated. Arthur's shrieking now, exhaustion clearly etched into his young face. The boy stiffens as he runs a palm along his gauntlet and the only response is a hollow noise echoing. Yelling, he readies his staff, teeth clenched and eyes wild.

Flickering voices and defective visions begin polluting the Highlander's sight.

-_"__Run away, hurry! There's no time! Ah! They're here!"-_

Poor child. Poor, poor child. As the insect rears back on it's hind feet, the Highlander can almost see those pincers shift into coarse hands with sharp weapons.

-_"__We're all going to die..."-_

Under the dim light, it all feels so _familiar –_ there's no other way to describe it. If this were the past, who would be who?

-_"_Nooooo_! Please, stop, stoooooop!"-_

Pain fades into an unimportant background as he, the gored and bloodied warrior, howls and scuttles up to his feet, that inhuman noise still resounding from his throat. Arthur's jaw goes slack, and his short legs finally give way. It's killing him, the Highlander knows it's killing him, but he still lunges at the insect with incoherent screaming.

-_"Don't touch him!"-_

He focuses all of his energy into his arms, imagining his very life force flooding from his body into those two limbs, crystallizing into raw energy, before finally bursting from his body in an utter _explosion_ – the tip of his spear thrusts straight through the hard exoskeleton of the insect's head and exits out right behind the mandibles. The jaws twitch once, twice, and the entire corpse falls to the peat ground.

-_"I don't wanna die – I DON'T WANNA DIE!"-_

Gasping, the Highlander wipes colored slime off his face along with red mud. He turns around, and relief washes over his mind to see his friends stirring as Arthur administers Nectars.

Arthur looks up, ready to spill out his relief, but it never comes, morphing into something quite the opposite instead. Blue eyes go wide, and Arthur's entire face seems to become pulled back and grotesque. He points a trembling finger at the Highlander's waist.

"I- I can see," he says; swallows hard, "I can see th-the insides."

The Highlander looks down, and in a haze, prods at some of his bulging entrails through the openings in his trunk. At least they aren't falling out.

"Oh." he murmurs, pushing down the guts with some curiosity. It's the first time he's ever seen so much of his insides.

He finds his vision trailing upwards to the warm light that drifts from the treetops right as the dim sunlight deteriorates to inky black.

-_"I didn't want to."-_

_Didn't want to do what? _he muses.

-0-0-0-

Consciousness beckons his mind away from frightful, confusing nightmares of pillage and rape and murder. Mumbling, the pain from his tossing drags him to reality. His body is sluggish, and when he notices how clammy the blankets are from sweat, he starts clearing his throat, trying to swallow, only to be met with a searing throat. He frowns and settles back into the pillows. His legs have gone numb, and he looks down to see Arthur dozing, drool dripping from his mouth.

"Arthur," he whispers hoarsely, shaking the boy's shoulder, "Arthur, go sleep in your bed."

Arthur mumbles, rolls around a bit, and blearily opens his eyes.

"What?" he mutters.

"Why are you sleeping here?"

He yawns and rolls up, before he stares at the Highlander and his jaw drops far enough down to hit his knees.

"Holy crap! You're up!" he shouts, and he starts sniffling for some reason. "I'm gonna get the others!" he calls as he runs off.

He can only stare as Arthur dashes off. In minutes, he can hear delighted shouts and the pounding of feet as all four of them squeeze into the small room and smother him.

"Everyone?" he asks, eyebrows scrunched.

"Oh gosh, how are you awake?" Raquna exclaims, lifting up his shirt without hesitation to examine the stitching. The threads are still cutting into swollen flesh, and he winces as the cloth brushes against the injury.

"Raquna! What're you doing?" Fredrica snaps, shaking Raquna.

"Your recovery speed is absolutely ridiculous," Simon murmurs, carefully observing the Highlander.

The bed-ridden man looks at all three of them, and decides that Arthur looks the least hysterical.

"Arthur, what happened? We were in the jungle and then I can't remember anything."

His head snaps up, and he immediately shifts his gaze away from the Highlander's clear eyes. Simon smoothly takes over.

"He still feels a bit guilty about how you saved him. You must have lost your memory because of all the blood loss."

"Arthur, I'm sure he'll understand," Fredrica says, her voice slightly strained, "just tell him like you told us."

"That's right, that's right!" Raquna adds, placing a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, in direct contrast to her boisterous voice.

He swallows, and begins speaking.

"We ended up running away from this scorpion F.O.E. that we couldn't sense, and bumped straight into one of those Moa F.O.E.'s. Right when we killed it, everyone was unconscious but me, and the scorpion thing caught up with us. All of a sudden you woke up and hit it straight through the head and killed it. But, then you ripped up your stomach and I could see your insides. We ran out of Nectars, so we gave you a couple Medicas instead to close up the holes, but you still needed to be treated at the clinic and get stitches.

The Highlander's eyes grow large, and he touches his torso, his face growing increasingly pale.

"You were right at death's doorstop," Simon says.

"I... Don't think that's helping," Fredrica mutters, watching the Highlander's posture slump and fail as well.

"My, my insides?" he whispers, feeling the bumpy threading.

"I don't think I wanna ever see that ever again," Arthur mumbles, his face taking on a green tinge.

"How long will I be here?"

"I'll give you some extra treatment, but I think you'll be stuck here for about three days," Simon says, his gaze elsewhere as he does some calculations on the side. The Highlander nods, his hand firmly placed over his stomach.

"We... Should all carry Adrianne Thread from now on."


End file.
